For example, changes in the gastrointestinal or cardiovascular system can turn deadly. Some democratic changes in the political system might be good for democracy itself, while changes in the systems of internal organs usually are considered a disturbing sign. Democracy between the systems of body organs may lead to some undesirable consequences if it gets too far— imagine that your liver passes a no-confidence vote against your head, or—excuse the medical details—your rectum impeaches your dignity. Sorry? Dignity is not an internal organ? Some-times it is. But debates among the elective organs are a good thing, for this means democracy is on the move. Democracy needs more physical activity, otherwise it gets obese and finishes up all the food in the nation’s fridge. But democracy shouldn’t move too fast, because it is not very young anymore, and its constitution sweats if it gets too heated. Then the world’s tyrannies declare with disgust that democracy has got its constitution sweaty. Democracy promptly checks on its constitution and honestly confirms, "Yes, it is pretty wet. But this is reparable. But look at you, bloody tyrants! You keep your constitution dry, and it is entirely eaten up by moles!" Then tyranny and democracy jump on each other and have a fight. And the rest of the world yawns while watching it on TV.

I always supported democracy and the ultimate authority of the majority in theory, though I never got a practical answer to what should be done if the majority is evil or gets things wrong. Perhaps democracy has some mysterious power to improve human nature, otherwise wild and brutal, and which only gets worse in a crowd. Probably I am wrong and democracy has never turned bad, or if it has, people try to forget such unfortunate occurrences. Let us forget it too, for it is better to forget unsolvable questions than try to solve them. The only problem with the politically-engaged slippers popped up when Lilli-Bunny woke up and went to the bath-room. He was very sleepy, and by mistake, put the right slipper on his left foot and the left slipper on his right. This forced the slippers to change their political orientations almost immediately. This occurs fairly often in politics, but was tough for the slippers because they retained shreds of dignity, which isn’t quite true of politicians. To remain consistent in such confusion, the left slipper argued that he had gone so far to the left, that for the first time in his life, he had actually got things right, and the right slipper tried to convince himself and the others that since he had now traveled so far to the left, he had to adopt some leftist tactics. Don’t get heated, my dearest reader. This is a simple truth of political life. Changing one’s mind constantly is just one of the professional hazards of any political career. But Lilli-Bunny was sleeping and not paying attention to all these political acrobatics. Once, he slept so deeply that he flipped over in his armchair. Thus, he pointed his slippers up at the ceiling. That was the real moment of national unity. By raising both up, Lilli-Bunny won the hearts of his slippers. They agreed to elect Lilli-Bunny as President. They cast their ballots that way because, first, Lilli-Bunny treated everybody to raspberry jam, which made him very important, and second, he sometimes threw the slippers at his cats when they got too playful—and who, if not a real president, would do such a drastic thing in order to restore public order? You know, excessive playfulness might interfere with healthy sleeping, and this is unacceptable! Never wake society while it is sleeping. This may have serious consequences, especially to the one who wakes it up. And third, Lilli-Bunny was the owner of the house, and who, if not the owner, is supposed to be elected president? I mean, he owns the house. It is very important for democracy to confirm the real situation of society by electing the one who would rule anyway, even though he wasn’t elected. This practice adds more legitimacy to the government and therefore makes the loyal citizens feel better. Isn’t that what modern democracy is all about? The slippers didn’t tell Lilli-Bunny about their decision, be-cause they were afraid the knowledge would make him nervous and preoccupied with his new political career. The slippers knew such preoccupation could seriously damage not only the household of the politician himself, but also households of many fellow citizens. Nor did the slippers tell anyone else in the house about electing Lilli-Bunny for the office. The other in-habitants seemed not to care. But that was just okay, because in a normal society politics shouldn’t much interfere with house-hold issues. Now the slippers formed a coalition and began to run against Lilli-Bunny’s winter boots, which would compete with the slippers for the leader’s feet in December, or even as early as mid-November, if it snowed early that year.

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